Embracing What Joins Us

At our daughter's Bat Mitzvah, we celebrated the similarities among our friends and families rather than emphasize the differences.

Family

As the youngest of six, I am very fortunate to have nieces and nephews who are close to my age. So, our daughter was raised with first cousins who are like aunts and uncles and second cousins who are her contemporaries. Her first cousin was like a second mother to our daughter when she was a baby. Dropping her off at her cousin's house was the easiest part of being a working mom. My niece and her family have included us in all of their family celebrations. Our relationship with her family has been integral to our children's' connection to my side of the family. My niece and her husband are the epitome of what it means to live the golden rule. They have always been kind, loving, and supportive, and they expected nothing in return. So, at our daughter's Bat Mitzvah, we asked my niece to select and read a passage from the Catholic Bible that had the same theme as our daughter's Torah portion, the golden rule.

Friends

Our neighborhood was unofficially a 55-and-over community in its early days. We were the babies. So, when our daughter was about 6 years old, and we found out that we had new neighbors with children, we ran over to the playground, hoping they'd show up. Our children quickly hit it off with their children. And the mom and I became fast friends. When my neighbor mentioned that her mother-law's native language was Arabic, my mind began to race, "Oh no, what if when they find out our kids are Jewish, they decide that our children cannot play together?" I waited several meetings before broaching the subject. As it turned out, my new friend had figured it out, and it was okay. Now, our kids fondly refer to the dad as Baba. He even came to our congregation to talk to my book club about Islam and forever changed, in a positive way, a Jewish group's view about Muslims. (That's a future blog post!)

When my husband was rushed to the ER in the middle of the night, it was this friend who came out on an icy night and slept on our couch until I came home. It was she who sat with me for 10 hours at the hospital. They are wonderful examples of doing to others as you would have them do unto you. At our daughter's Bat Mitzvah, we asked them to select several readings from the Quran with the same theme as the Torah portion - and read them from the bimah.

We wanted to remind our friends and families that our similarities are so much greater than our differences. Our goal was to embrace what joins us.

Happy New Year!

This week began the holiday season for Jews around the world. For many interfaith families, the holiday season begins with Rosh Hashanah (the New Year) and goes through to Passover with a mix of Jewish and Christian holidays in between. Celebrating Jewish holidays is different than celebrating Christian holidays in many ways. Jewish holidays start the night before the date of the holiday and revolve around either attending services or being with family; some holidays do not include attending services, in which case, the holiday is celebrated at home. The High Holy Days are celebrated in Synagogue, and in my husband's family, we have a family dinner on Erev Rosh Hashanah (Erev is the "night before.") 

Apples and honey help to usher in a sweet new year

I've been celebrating the High Holy Days with my husband's family for 30 years now. During those first years, my father-in-law was a congregational Cantor, so, we didn't have a leisurely family meal. After dinner we dashed off to services. I still have a vivid memory from those first evening holiday services -- arriving at Temple to see the congregants mulling about at the steps to the building. When the service was over, they stood outside talking as well. This never happened at my church. Maybe it's because we went to Mass every week, so we saw other congregants regularly. Sure, there were those who attended Mass only on Christmas and Easter but not our friends. Some Jews attend weekly services for Shabbat (each Friday/Saturday), but most do not. Many, especially those with grown children, only pass through the doors of the Synagogue for the holidays. Spending time together before services start is a way to catch up on the past year. It's community. 

Something that shocked me early on is that you actually need a ticket to attend Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services. As a result, it is a common to join a congregation just before the High Holy Days. We joined our Synagogue a few weeks before the start of the holidays, when our son was a newborn and our daughter was 3. It bothered me so much that there was a children's service, separate from the adults. In my Catholic upbringing, everyone attended Mass together. (Our Church never had a crying room.) However, only 1 Mass per year was any longer than an hour, and we never went to it. A typical Rosh Hashanah service is 3 hours long. The highlight of the service is thesounding of the Shofar. One of the first things my husband did was to sound the Shofar.  

Sounding the Shofar at Tashlich on Rosh Hoshanah

When we left our Synagogue - 7 years ago now - we started a Kehilat, a community of prayer. That was in July. Since the Jewish calendar revolves around the High Holy Days, our new community needed to begin planning for our own High Holiday services as soon as we formed. Unlike a Catholic Mass, which needs a priest, a Jewish service can be led by a lay person; my husband was asked (or offered) to lead services. He spent the two months meeting with our liturgical committee and pouring over the prayer book to design the services. Once again…I knew he was Jewish, but not this Jewish. For 5 years, my husband acted as Rabbi and Cantor for a "congregation" of 100 or so. They came back year after year to enjoy the service that he and the liturgical committee put together. These services were bittersweet. Our reason for being together was sad, but being together was a sign that we were committed to being part of a Jewish community. 

Prayer Book Prepared for High Holy Day Services

The uniqueness of our Rosh Hashanah service revolved around its location. The service was held in a park - rain or shine. We had hot mornings, cool mornings and one with full-blown thunderstorms. Through the 15+ years I have attended services as an interfaith mom, these outdoor services were the highlight of my journey. Services are often, for lack of a better word, generic. They are nothing like the spiritual connection to G-d that I had as a Catholic. Although our service was in the park, everyone still dressed as we would for services in the Synagogue - suits, dresses, heels. However, we each carried a lawn chair with us. Sitting on a lawn chair in a pavilion surrounded by trees and a lake gave the new year an inspirational start. My husband takes great pride in bringing meaning to services - through music and teachings. He never discussed the service with me prior to it happening, so I entered the "room" just like anyone else in the congregation. It was always interesting to hear my own husband give the D'var Torah (like a homily/sermon) and to hear his spiritual side emerge. As much as we discussed the logistics of having an interfaith family, we never discussed the spiritual side. As a result, this was eye-opening. 

Our View During Services

At the conclusion of each morning Rosh Hashanah service, we joined together for lunch in the park. We ate together as a community -- one that began as a result of much angst. This holiday service was a milestone each year. We wondered if we would ever join together again in the building from whence we came. Spoiler alert - we've been back at our Synagogue for 3 High Holy Days as of this year.

After services, we join others by a stream, lake, or creek for a lesser-practiced tradition of Tashlich. For a Catholic, it is reminiscent of Confession but with a much more positive spin. You bring a piece of bread to the water, tear off pieces representing the wrongs of the year that you'd like to cast aside, and toss them into the running water. This casting away of your sins gives you the opportunity to start the new year with a fresh slate. 

Tashlich by the River

Tashlich at the Lake

L'Shanah Tovah!

The Break Up

Momentarily, it will be Erev Rosh Hashanah. I wish all of you a sweet new year. 

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Once I realized how I was feeling about the day-to-day of being an interfaith mom, I decided to reach out to our Rabbi. In preparation, I wrote what would become, many years later, the beginning of this blog. I thought it was important for him to know what my journey had been and where it had taken me.

I shared my journey with the Rabbi, when we sat down for breakfast on Halloween morning. He read through everything I had written and asked me many questions along the way. We developed a plan. I was going to focus on my spiritual side; I was going to explore the possibilities.
My husband was the VP of the Synagogue Board. I was in bed and didn't hear him arrive home from a board meeting. The phone rang just after midnight. Next thing I knew, he was standing at the foot of the bed. "That was the doctor's office. He wants me to go to the hospital." He was having a heart attack.

A week later, I was offered a part-time consulting project that turned into a 5 year commitment and the experience of a lifetime. I was fulfilled professionally and, to some extent, personally. There was no time to explore my spiritual side. And, the feelings I expressed in my previous post disappeared, until…3 years later.

My husband had a heart attack. That next 6 months is a blur. My mind and heart were focused on him and our children. It was 18 months from when our daughter would become a Bat Mitzvah, and our son was 9 years old.

My husband was not yet ready to tell people what had happened; however, my daughter had a class Shabbat that Friday night. So, along with the kids, I went to services. The Mi shebeirach (a prayer for healing) had a new meaning, and I was just about able to keep it together while we sang this blessing. Here I was - a Catholic mother with two Jewish children, wondering what was going to happen to her Jewish husband.

Somehow, my husband continued his work on the Synagogue's board as soon as he could. Besides being reminded by the Rabbi that he had a Bat Mitzvah to live for - and a Bar Mitzvah not too long after that - I think my husband's place on the Board was one of the things that kept him focused on his recovery. It started with phone calls. Then he started going to meetings. Then he was there all of the time. He had been nominated to be President. His passion for the Synagogue consumed him.

He became President in early June. Within a matter of weeks the beloved Rabbi's contract was not renewed, and there were members of our Synagogue community who were unhappy. Without going into detail, I'll simply say that my husband was treated very badly by some in our community. It still pains me to think about it. I came from a background where politics such as we were embroiled in is unheard of. Priests come and go, and the community has no input. As a result, the parishioners are generally not surprised when change occurs, and they welcome the incoming priest and his fresh perspective. So, I did not expect the venom and meanness that came our way.

One of the low points of this experience was the Congregational meeting just after it happened. I had taken the kids to a swim meet – trying hard to keep their lives as normal as possible. We drove past the Synagogue to see how many cars were in the parking lot. Cars were parked along the main road, the driveway, and there was a full lot. However, there were POLICE CARS parked out front. I was afraid. We had been receiving harassing emails, and we had contacted the police. Had someone come to blows? Was my husband at risk? No, they were just there to keep an eye on things.

My husband spoke at the Congregation meeting, and he was well received. gave a chronological order of events that night to explain to the Congregation all that had transpired leading to this point. They gave him a standing ovation. At that point, I don’t think he gave a damn. On the other hand, I was so proud of him. I was beginning to understand what all of this had meant to him. I was beginning to appreciate him again – for the Jewish man he is rather than for the man I thought he should be.

Three weeks later, the Rabbi said the equivalent of he goes or I go. My  my husband resigned his post as President. For him, I think this decision and the way he was treated were worse than his heart attack.

However, now that this had all come to pass, we had no house of worship where we felt welcome. With a Bat Mitzvah less than a year away, we remained members during that year. However, for services we gathered with others of like mind. I was frustrated. For the past four years, I gave my husband over to that congregation. And he had been tossed back to me – with a new perspective on what it means to be Jewish. I had given up my own religion to raise my children as Jews. Now, the rabbi who I trusted with my deepest thoughts about my own spirituality had been the one who used my husband as his scapegoat. After all I had sacrificed, we had nothing of a spiritual home. Just as this happened, our daughter was to begin her Bat Mitzvah training. For my husband, this was supposed to be one of the highlights of fatherhood. Now, so much of the joy had been sucked out of the planning. It was not fair.